𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑, COLBY MADDEN

2x07: Fired Up.

The morning light filtered weakly through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the living room couch. Y/N was already up, bundled in a blanket, sipping her coffee, when she noticed Colby curled up under a heap of covers, pale and shivering.

"Colby...?" she called softly, leaning closer. "You don't look so good."

He groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "Ugh... my head... my throat..."

Y/N's heart tightened. She hadn't expected this. The thought of him sick made her stomach twist. "Oh no, you're really not feeling well, are you? Come on, let me help you."

Carefully, she adjusted the blanket around him and offered a glass of water. "Here... sip this. And I'll make you some soup."

Colby managed a weak smile. "Y/N... you really didn't have to... I'll just survive."

"Nope," Y/N said firmly, patting his shoulder. "You're miserable, and I feel terrible knowing you're sick. Besides, you've survived worse... but let's not test it today."

He chuckled faintly, his voice hoarse. "You're... good at this. Taking care of me, I mean."

Y/N knelt beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "I care about you, Colby. You'd do the same for me. Now just rest. I'll be right here, and we'll get through this together."

He shifted slightly to lean against her shoulder, and she wrapped an arm around him. The warmth of her presence seemed to soothe him instantly. He closed his eyes, leaning into her, and Y/N gently stroked his hair as she whispered, "You'll be okay. Just sleep."

For the first time all morning, Colby relaxed, letting the illness take over while Y/N stayed by his side, keeping him comfortable and safe. Outside, the world carried on, but inside that small living room, everything that mattered was right there: Colby on the couch, Y/N by his side, and the quiet comfort of being together. The morning sun poured through the blinds, casting warm stripes across the living room where Y/N hovered over Colby, who was slumped on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Vic lounged in the armchair nearby, newspaper in hand, barely lifting an eyebrow as the chaos of the day unfolded.

"Don't get up, I'll just let myself in," Hartley called as she flopped onto the couch beside Colby.

Y/N groaned. "Great. While you're at it, can you let yourself back out?"

Hartley grinned. "What's with the attitude? Oh, did you finally realize the whole Chosen One thing means nothing to anyone but you?"

"No, I have a fever," Colby mumbled, barely lifting his head.

"Oh, great," Hartley said, feigning exasperation. "Does that mean you're gonna start being all needy?"

"I mean... ah, what can I get for you, sick child?" Y/N asked, gathering supplies for soup.

"Don't worry, Colby. I'll make you some soup and you'll feel better in no time."

"Well, that may work for normal people," Colby croaked, "but not with us supervillains. When we get a fever, our powers start to randomly glitch."

"I think you're underestimating my chicken noodle game," Y/N said, placing a steaming bowl on the coffee table.

"No, he's right," Colby said weakly. "Once the glitches kick in, you can't stop them. Last time Jake was sick, his super-strength tore every door off its hinges. It was... a good month for the handyman."

Vic snorted from his chair. "Colby, you're not leaving the house until your fever breaks. Hartley, I'll take my soup in a bread bowl. I'll keep you company."